Happiness is a Warm Gun
by Petroica traversi
Summary: "Pretty impressive bloodbath," Gregory mumbled, pressing his cheek to the back of Christophe's neck. Christophe laughed, stepping over yet another body. Contains violence and non-con.


Okie dokie, this fic contains non-con, so don't say I didn't warn you.

X

He had been woken up by a noise in his room. Ever vigilant, he had reached for the gun he kept under his pillow, but it had been too late. He felt a sharp blow to the back of his head, and that was all it took. The next thing he was aware of was the feeling of ropes around his wrists and feet, and the blindfold across his eyes. The room in which he had awoken was quiet, the hum of some overhead light the only sound. He spent a few minutes trying to pull the ropes off his hands, but to no avail. Whoever had tied them was good at that sort of thing, and the only thing he accomplished was rubbing a layer of skin off his wrists.

He sat in silence for a while, wondering exactly what was going on and trying to stay calm, but when he heard the door to the room open, his heart raced.

"He's awake, boss!" he heard someone shout down a hall, followed by heavy footsteps approaching. The blindfold was pulled down around his neck, and he found himself face to face with the last person he wanted to see just then.

Stephen McLean was a big-time drug runner in Colorado. Gregory and Christophe had done several jobs for him in the past, mostly just taking out other drug dealers, but a week ago he'd asked them to do some hits on some local cops, and they'd refused. Taking out fellow criminals was one thing, but the two of them had always considered themselves on the right side of the law, in some convoluted way. The only time they would do hits on anyone in the government was if they had irrefutable proof that the person was corrupt. Stephen had wanted them to kill off a few cops he felt personally wronged by, and that was decidedly outside of their moral code.

But Stephen did not like taking no for an answer. He'd tried to threaten them into taking the job, but they'd assumed he'd given up after a few days. Apparently not.

"Well, well, Gregory," he said, "Are you regretting your decision yet?"

Gregory said nothing; just fixed an icy stare on the large man in front of him.

He just laughed and patted Gregory on the shoulder.

"You act all high and mighty, but we'll cut you down to size."

Gregory watched with trepidation as Stephen walked over to the side of the room to confer with his cronies, who were setting up a video camera on a tripod. A sense of foreboding came over him. What exactly were they intending to record? As if he read his mind, Stephen appeared in front of him again.

"Ok, my snooty little friend. Here's the deal. We still want you and your little partner to work for us, because you're among the best in the state, and I like your style. So I guess we're just going to have to convince you that it's in your best interest to cooperate. And we're going to send a video to your bitchy French partner to show him what happens when you say no to us. Hopefully we can come to some kind of agreement."

With a smirk on his face, he reached out and stroked Gregory's cheek. Gregory jerked his face away, but the hand followed him. Stephen grabbed his face roughly and turned it back toward him.  
>"You'll learn not to say no to me!" he hissed, and stuck Gregory hard across the face. Gregory gasped, but tried not to react, not wanting to give his assaulter the satisfaction. The blow had been hard enough to disorient him, and he stumbled as he was roughly pulled to his feet, the ropes around his ankles not allowing him to stand properly. Stephen threw him to the ground, and began to kick him repeatedly, hitting him in his ribs and face. With his arms still tied behind his back, Gregory had no way to defend himself, even as he was pulled off the ground by his hair. He gasped in pain, still trying to control his emotions, but the blows to his head were beginning to make him woozy. His mouth was bleeding, and he knew that if he made it out of this alive, he'd have some pretty spectacular bruises on his face.<p>

He'd been in fights before, but never anything this brutal, beaten senselessly with no way to fight back. Still, he knew Stephen's logic was flawed; if the video convinced Christophe to take action, which wasn't even guaranteed, he'd probably just come in with guns blazing. Gregory wouldn't let this man bully him into doing something he didn't want to do, even if it meant his life, and he knew Christophe had similar sentiments.

Gregory's head reeled as he was thrown into a table behind him, and then flipped over onto his stomach, bent over it. He struggled in earnest as he felt his pajama pants being pulled over his hips, trying to get his feet up so he could kick Stephen away from him, but that only earned him a few more hard blows in the head.

"N... no," he whimpered, but the man above him only laughed and slapped his cheek.

In a daze, he felt blood flowing from his nose, down onto the table. The hits to his head were beginning to make him feel numb to what was about to happen, until he felt the tearing pain of Stephen pushing into him. He'd never had sex before; some stupid part of himself kept him from pursuing anyone, even though he felt the only person he really wanted seemed to have no interest in him. But even if he hadn't been a virgin, Stephen obviously wasn't concerned with his comfort, not bothering to stretch him or use any lube. He was in pure agony, as the other man leaned over him, pushing in as far as he could.

He bit his lip, trying not to moan from the pain, and fought back the tears he felt gathering in his eyes, pressing his face into the table. Stephen had other plans, however, and he pulled Gregory's head around until he was staring right at the camera.

"Let's see your pretty face now, huh?" he said.

"D-don't-" Gregory began, but was cut off when Stephen grabbed his hair and slammed his head into the table.

"How does it feel knowing your partner is going to see this?" he whispered in his ear, "See you stretched out and bleeding all over my dick, all pathetic and helpless."

The thought of Christophe seeing him in that state was all it took to break the rest of his resolve, and tears began to flow freely from his eyes, a strangled sob stuck in his throat.

Stephen just smirked above him, and began to thrust roughly into him.

XX

Christophe was a night owl by nature. It was rare for him to be in bed before the sun came up. On school days he usually survived on coffee and cigarettes, when he bothered going to school at all. Gregory had always lectured him on his lack of interest in education, but Christophe just figured that in his line of work, education really wasn't that important. He wasn't stupid by any means, and he could read and write well enough, and do basic math. What else did a mercenary need, especially when he had a partner who was sharp as a tack, and made all his business decisions for him? Maybe he did rely too heavily on Gregory, but he didn't really see them parting ways any time soon. They knew each other well enough to predict the other's reactions in any given situation, and moreover they liked each other and got along well, despite the occasional quarrel.

It was nearing four in the morning, and Christophe had gotten bored with doing sit-ups and cleaning his guns, so he decided to check his email to see if Gregory had forwarded him anything about any new jobs. They'd been laying low in the week since they turned down the cop-killing job, and Christophe was getting bored.

The first email in his inbox had, "Read this if you don't want your partner to die," written in the subject. Christophe didn't usually give in to threats, especially those that came via email, but something about this one gave him a sense of foreboding, especially after he noticed who had sent it. He had never liked or trusted that jackass drug boss, and wouldn't put it past him to make good on his threats.

He opened the email with trepidation. Inside there was only a link, and he clicked on it hoping it wouldn't give his computer a nasty virus or anything. Instead he was led to a video which he watched with growing horror, as first it showed Gregory being beaten, and then raped, and then thrown carelessly to the floor in a semi-conscious heap, half-naked, crying, and covered in his own blood. Christophe couldn't find it in himself to shut the video off until after the men in it left the room, spitting on Gregory's prone form as they passed. Part of him had wanted to watch the whole thing just to see if Gregory even survived the situation, but in some ways he felt he shouldn't turn it off because he felt he owed his partner something; that Gregory had been hurt because of a decision they'd come to together, and Christophe at least owed it to him to bear witness to his suffering.

And then, of course, go rescue him.

He knew that if Gregory could speak to him now, he'd tell him not to be stupid and risk himself just for his partner's sake. But Christophe was wholly dedicated to their partnership. He believed that if Gregory was in trouble, then it was his duty to help him. It wasn't emotional, of course. He kept telling himself that Gregory was just his partner, and the rage he felt building inside him was what anyone would feel seeing their partner hurt.

But watching the video had filled him with a bloodlust stronger than any he'd ever known. There had been men he'd wanted to kill before, but the intense feelings that came over him while he watched Gregory cry in agony almost scared him. Feelings of possessiveness he'd never given much thought to had overwhelmed him, and his only thoughts were of saving Gregory, and making those assholes pay.

He would enjoy feeding them their own entrails.

XXX

Gregory awoke to the sounds of terrified shouting and gunfire. Somehow he knew exactly what was happening; that his prediction had been correct. Christophe was here for him, and he knew he'd be ok, probably, after his physical and emotional wounds healed, at least. He stirred, trying to will his body to have enough strength to sit up, but the ropes were still binding his hands and feet, and he felt too weak to do much of anything other than lay on the floor, moaning. His head was throbbing, and every part of him was sore. He didn't know how much blood he'd lost during his ordeal; definitely enough to make him feel sick, but not enough to put him completely out of commission. His pride was wounded just as much as his body, and it was humiliating to think of what Christophe had already seen, and would see once he came through the door.

He heard the gunfire growing nearer, and then an eerie silence. The only sound was of someone stalking down the hallway, searching through the rooms along the way. The door to the room he was in opened, and he heard a soft gasp. His back was turned to the door, and he didn't quite have the energy to turn over and look at his partner, but it didn't seem to matter, because within second he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He could smell Christophe: the scent of blood and cigarettes, and tried not to cry again as he felt his partner's hands shaking as they undid the ropes around his wrists.

Christophe was muttering to himself in French, mostly swears and threats towards those who had done this to Gregory, even though in all likelihood they were all already dead. The ropes around his wrists had cut deeply into his skin, and he moaned in both relief and pain as Christophe pulled them away.

As soon as they were off, Christophe pulled him onto his back, and he looked up at his partner's worried face, trying to smile at him, but managing only to grimace before blinking back more tears.

"You're ok," Christophe said quietly, brushing the hair off Gregory's face before moving down to untie his feet, pulling Gregory's pants back up before he did. He looked more upset than Gregory would have imagined, his face set in a sad scowl.

"Are you alright?" Gregory rasped out, before breaking into a cough. There was definitely some dried blood or _something_ stuck in his throat. He didn't really want to know.

Christophe gave him an incredulous look before pulling a bottle of water out of his backpack and holding it to Gregory's lips, propping him up in his arms.

"You are asking if I am ok?" he asked, as Gregory drank, "Stupide."

"Well, you look upset."

"Of course I am upset. This is not 'ow I wanted to spend my evening," Christophe answered as he laid Gregory back on the floor, and reloaded his gun.

"I'm sorry I'm such a burden on you," Gregory whispered.

Christophe gave him one of those looks he hated so much; a searching stare that made Gregory wonder if he didn't know exactly what he was thinking. Apparently in this case, he did.

"I'm not upset because I 'ad to come rescue you, you idiot. I'm upset because I don't like to see you get 'urt."

"Oh."

They managed to escape the building without further incident; Christophe carrying Gregory on his back, with rope slung under his thighs and around Christophe's shoulders to support him. He wasn't strong enough to hang on, but Christophe had insisted on having his hands free, in case they ran into anyone and he needed to use his gun. It hadn't been necessary, though.

"Pretty impressive bloodbath," Gregory mumbled, pressing his cheek to the back of Christophe's neck. Christophe laughed, stepping over yet another body. The hallway was filled with them, some shot, some stabbed, and some rather badly mutilated. Christophe didn't usually bother with such antics, preferring to get the job done quickly and efficiently. Apparently he'd been rather angry this time.

"They got what they deserved," was his only response.

XXX

The sun was coming up as Gregory snuggled into his bed. Upon returning to his home he'd begged Christophe not to leave him alone, but it didn't seem like he'd been planning to leave anyway. He'd carried Gregory to an upstairs bathroom, and washed him with such tenderness and care that he'd broken down crying once more. Christophe hadn't minded, and had held his soapy body close, stroking his back and whispering reassurances into his hair until Gregory had managed to compose himself. He hated being weak in front of anyone, especially Christophe, but he was beginning to think that after this night, perhaps letting his guard down around his partner wouldn't be the end of the world. Christophe didn't seem to mind his momentary weaknesses; in fact he seemed more than happy to bandage Gregory's wounds, and then climb into Gregory's bed with him when he'd confessed that he was afraid to be alone. Something had shifted between the two of them tonight, and though Gregory wasn't sure exactly what it was, he felt that it was a good thing.

He thought about this as Christophe reached over to him, gently pulling him closer. Gregory's heart raced; they'd shared beds before, but never like this. His excitement was only dulled by his exhaustion and pain, and he felt disappointed that he couldn't fully enjoy this tender side of Christophe that he'd never seen before.

"I was scared," Christophe whispered, as he ran his fingers lightly across Gregory's cheek, "I still am, I guess."

"Why?"

"I was afraid I'd be too late. Although... I guess I was, really. I just... I don't want this to change you. You 'ave always been so brave, and sure of yourself. I'd 'ate for that to change just because I fucked up."

"How on Earth did you fuck up, Christophe?"

"I wasn't there when you needed me," he answered, with a pained look on his face that Gregory had never seen before, "I should 'ave been there to stop them!"

"No," Gregory said emphatically, "You had no way of knowing, Christophe, you can't blame yourself."

Christophe still looked doubtful, so he reached up with courage he didn't know he had, and brushed his fingers across his lips. They were softer than he expected, and they parted just slightly at the contact. Christophe just stared at him in surprise for a moment, before kissing his fingertips.

"Ok?" Gregory asked quietly.

"Ok," Christophe replied, pulling Gregory closer to him, "But, ah, what can I do in the meantime to make you feel better?"

Gregory was quiet for a moment, happy to just enjoy the feeling of Christophe's arms around him. The pressure on his bruises was an uncomfortable distraction, but he'd wanted this for so long that he wasn't willing to let anything ruin it, not even pain.

"I need you to be strong for me," he answered, finally, "I need you to hold me when I'm sad, and support me when I'm too weak to stand. Am I asking too much?"

"I will do _anything_ you ask, mon ami," he replied.

"Anything?"

"Oui."

"Will you kiss me?" he asked, heart racing.

Christophe hesitated for only a second, before pressing his lips to Gregory's. The kiss was soft, but Gregory felt a lot of things that had been left unsaid between them in it. Christophe's hand gently stroked his cheek for a moment, and then he pulled back.

"You are injured, mon cher," he said, "So now? Go to sleep."

Gregory was so exhausted that he couldn't even begin to object, and he started to drift off as he felt Christophe pull him against his chest, and kiss his forehead. He knew it would be some time before he was fully recovered, both physically and mentally, but if Christophe kept his word, he'd have all the strength he needed to make it through.

XXX

Blah blah blah, please review if you liked this. IDK I kind of think it sucks but oh well. =p


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